


it's the heaven of human spirit ringing

by kahledo



Category: Anne of Green Gables (TV 1985) & Related Fandoms, Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Gen, Period-Typical Racism, also i kept her race deliberately vague for all my pocs out there, anne of colour, but very vague bc i would very much not like to say any slurs, elements of the books the films and the tv series included, she still has red hair and freckles tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29969142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kahledo/pseuds/kahledo
Summary: there's something tragic about yousomething so magic about youdon't you agree?poc anne
Relationships: Cole Mackenzie & Anne Shirley, Diana Barry & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Jerry Baynard & Anne Shirley, Marilla Cuthbert & Matthew Cuthbert & Anne Shirley
Kudos: 4





	it's the heaven of human spirit ringing

**Author's Note:**

> anne is a person of colour and the use of the word 'coloured' is used a few times but most of the time anne is referred to as having dark skin or a dark complexion.

Anne sat at Bright River station and tried to ignore the looks she elicited from others. Try as she might, Anne couldn’t imagine everything away. She could imagine her red hair away to a perfect blonde and could even imagine her status as an orphan away, if she especially tried. But her skin was something that could not be changed, no matter what. She could have honestly said that, before the Hammonds, she had never thought of her skin before. She hadn’t disliked it, save for her horrid freckles, and Katie Maurice had the same complexion, so she never really worried about it. She never saw it as a curse until the Hammonds had seen fit to teach her, in the name of eliminating her naivety. In between crying twins and whippings, Anne heard and internalised everything the Hammonds threw at her, from when she was nine and had gotten lost on the way back from the mill to when Mrs Hammond had thrown her Tennyson to feed the fire.

She did not know she was ‘coloured’ until Mr Hammond had spat out that word at her.

The _coloured_ girl the Hammonds hired to look after the young’uns.

That’s what they told their neighbours at Sunday service, as Anne sat daydreaming, hidden away on the back pew of the church. She knew she was of a different colour, but she had never imagined that that would make the slightest bit of difference. The more respectable Mrs Thomas felt awkward bringing this up to the child, her wide green eyes staring up at her in confusion.

She saw the words linger in Mrs Hammond’s eyes, heard it on Mr Hammond lips. She felt it hang in the air, unsaid by all who looked on the small girl at Bright River. The stationmaster had not asked her if she would like to sit in the ladies’ waiting room and she wouldn’t have wanted to anyway. She vibrated with anticipation, she felt as if she was too high-strung to simply sit inside. She was going to belong somewhere, to Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert of Green Gables. She couldn’t help the grin that stretched across her hopeful face. She had always found it easier to be hopeful in the sunshine.

*

Matthew Cuthbert was not expecting her. Marilla had told him to fetch the boy coming from Nova Scotia, not this red-headed freckled little girl. But she brightened upon seeing him, standing up at once to greet him.

“Mr Cuthbert?” He found her voice to be clear and sweet, and a pleasant thing to listen to. He nodded silently. She held out a small hand for him to shake. “I’m very glad to meet you, I’m Anne Shirley – that’s Anne spelt with an E, please! I was beginning to worry that you wouldn’t come for me at all and imagined all of the things that might’ve delayed you, I had just made up my mind that if you didn’t come for me tonight I would sleep in that wild cherry tree. That one, do you see it?” As she continued, Matthew found his will dissolve. He simply could not tell this scrawny yet vibrant little girl that she was not the orphan he had come for. He didn’t have the heart for it. He guided her to the buggy, and as she settled in, he noticed the eyes watching them. It left a peculiar feeling in his stomach, as though something had become lodged there and wouldn’t let up.

Anne didn’t seem to notice though, as she looped a thin arm through his, and continued to speak. “I can’t wait to belong to you, Mr Cuthbert. I hope I can make you proud of me! I’ve never belonged to anyone before, I’m not really bought into houses to be a daughter, but I’ll strive to be a good one! _Oh, Mr Cuthbert!_ ” She sat enraptured as Matthew rode onto the Avenue. He glanced over at her, worried at her sudden silence. She gazed up at the blossoms that hung above them, reaching a hand out to touch them. She remained silent for another five minutes, Matthew’s knees bouncing in nervousness.

“Well, are you alright?” He muttered.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr Cuthbert! I was only – what was that place?” She twisted in her seat to glance back at it.

“Oh, that. People call it the Avenue. It’s a pretty sight, I guess.”

“Pretty! That doesn’t go far enough. It’s –” She stuttered, trying to find the right word for it. “Delightful. It’s – delightful. Wouldn’t you say? People may call it the Avenue, but I will forevermore know it as The White Way of Delight. Doesn’t that give you a thrill, Mr Cuthbert? Tell me what those white branches reminded you of?” Matthew mumbled an ‘I don’t know’ and Anne laughed cheerfully. “Why, a bride, of course! A bride with a misty white veil – I’ve never seen a bride before but that’s what I would imagine a bride to look like. I don’t imagine I will ever be a bride one day, I’m too dark and gangly, but I would love to attend a wedding. Are there any engaged couples in Avonlea, Mr Cuthbert? Were they two childhood sweethearts? Or perhaps they courted once but fell out after a quarrel only to reunite years later? Isn’t that simply _tragic_? It doesn’t matter if not, but I hope to one day stand beside my bosom friend as she pledges her soul to her beau. The next best thing to being a bride oneself is being the bosom friend on one.”

“A bo – a bosom friend?” Matthew reeled, unsure of how to comment on Anne’s seemingly steadfast belief that she would remain unloved all her life, a certain word pricking at his ears.

“A real _kindred spirit_ , a best friend! I had Katie Maurice and Violetta, but they were only window friends. I miss them terribly, but they weren’t bosom friends. Do your neighbours happen to have little girls?” She stared up in anticipation, heart beating out of her chest at the prospect.

“Well, here’s Barry pond. Mr Barry lives yonder – he has a little girl. Diana’s her name.” Anne let out a cry of triumphant glee.

“Oh, Mr Cuthbert, you truly are kind! I know you wouldn’t understand how lonely an asylum or being a homegirl can be, but I know you can imagine my plight. Oh! I’m pretty nearly perfectly happy! I can never be _perfectly_ happy because – well, what would you call this?” She lifted one of her braids for inspection. Matthew hesitated, not wishing to say something that would upset the girl.

“Well, it’s red, isn’t it?”

“Yes, _red_! Now, you see why I can never be perfectly happy. A girl at the orphanage said that red-headed girls were unlucky, and it must be true considering my…background. That and my complexion make for an unflattering appearance, I suppose. I never really thought about it until Mr Hammond – well, never mind! _Oh, Mr Cuthbert!_ Is that –” The house itself was white with green accents, surrounded by the most beautiful trees and large green fields. Matthew noticed that she had been struck dumb at the sight, the second time since they met. A small, proud smile blossomed on the man’s face, pride at the fact that his old homestead could fill Anne with as much wonder and joy as the White Way of Delight. However, his smile died as the realisation dawned on him that this excitable young creature (who had already firmly situated herself into his affections) would collapse in sheer disappointment when Marilla would tell her in her too-strict voice that ‘no, the Cuthberts did not want her at all’.

*

Marilla Cuthbert stared in pure horror as her brother picked up the young girl from the buggy and placing her on the ground. She turned in a slow manner, as if drinking in every detail around her. Marilla cleared her throat, causing the girl’s green eyes to dart towards her. She walked purposefully towards her, a wide smile on her face.

“Matthew Cuthbert, who on earth is _that_?” Anne stopped in her tracks, her confidence quickly draining from her. “Where is the boy?”

Matthew could see the second Anne’s soul crumpled. He knew she was off somewhere far away from Green Gables as he and Marilla spoke.

“There was no boy. Only her.” He hefted a large sigh. “I couldn’t just leave her there.”

“Well, this is a fine kettle of fish and no mistake.” Marilla was blind to the torture her tone inflicted on the poor girl in front of her. “Well, we certainly can’t keep her. Rachel was appalled at the thought of an orphan boy as it was, a girl – especially a girl of her _complexion_ – would spin her into hysterics! To think she was talking about London street Arabs and French ruffians!” She paused for breath, sighing in deep discontentment. “Well, girl? What’s your name?”

“You don’t want me.” Anne whispered. “You –” She looked up, helplessly at Matthew. “Why didn’t you –” Her large eyes filled with tears and breathed in wet, broken gulps of air. Marilla watched on in confusion. Her sensible nature could not comprehend the child’s reaction – the situation was regrettable to be sure, but nothing worth crying over, surely.

“What on Earth? Child stop crying this instant! Tell your name this instant, please.”

“Could – Could you call me Cordelia? Or Penelope? They’re such romantic –” She broke off as sadness overwhelmed her. “I – _Why didn’t you tell me?_ ” She repeated. “This wouldn’t be so – tragical – if I had never seen the Lake of Shining Waters or the White Way of Delight or –” She cried messily, unnerving the two elderly and reticent siblings.

“Her name’s Anne.” Matthew murmured before quickly adding, “With an E.”

“What’s this business with –” Marilla stopped, not wishing to burden herself with more nuisance than the girl has already bought upon them. She turned to the weeping child in front of her, taking a moment to examine her carefully. She wasn’t a particularly pleasant-looking child, but she was very striking. Her red hair and light eyes contrasted in an eye-catching way against her dark skin. Then again, her dark skin would draw attention to her anyway, Marilla thought, and who knows what the folk of Avonlea would think about it? She admitted to herself only that her freckles were endearing to look at, if only as an indication that this child spent a lot of her time outdoors in the fresh air and so must not be as sickly as her thin frame suggested. “Anne, stop crying, for the land’s sake. There’s been a mistake is all. You won’t be turned out of doors tonight. Now come along.” Anne did not stop crying, the skin under her eyes puffing up to a worrying degree. However, she did indeed come along, entering Green Gables with a brokenheartedness in her step.

“That child beats all for hysterics, that’s for sure and certain.” Marilla told her brother after she had sent Anne to bed, her sobs still audible from where they sat in front of the fire. “I’ll take her to Mrs Spencer in the morning and see how this whole mess was created – I suppose the orphanage will take her back.”

Matthew grumbled. “She’s a nice little thing, Marilla. It would be such a shame to have to send her back when she’s so set on staying. I could hire that Jerry boy from the Baynards to help me with the farm work and she – well, she could be company for you.”

“I’m not suffering for company.” She replied, shocked at how steadfast Matthew seemed to be. It was a rare day when Matthew Cuthbert had a firm opinion on anything, and Marilla was often moved to oblige him when he did, but she still had her doubts. “Especially not one as sorrowful as her.”

“She’s not too sorrowful – you should’ve heard her on the way over.” Matthew argued in his quiet manner. “You ought to let her stay, Marilla.”

“Matthew Cuthbert, I can see plain as day that you wish to keep her. But she’s no good for us.” She considered the argument over after having said that. But Matthew had the final word, as she stood up slowly.

“We may be some good to her.”

*

Anne was of the opinion that things were always brighter in the morning. Today was no exception. She had firmly decided to enjoy the last remaining hours in the place that would her dreams forevermore. Her gabled room was bare and empty save for the essentials, but her heart lifted at the sight of the sun stretched against the floorboards. She sat up, gazing out of the window at the beautiful blossoms that pressed against the windows. In her grief last night, she hadn’t noticed the tree that sat next to the eastern windows. She opened the window and brushed her hand against the flowers, marveling at the beauty of the day.

“Oh, dearest Snow Queen! I shall forever remember how resplendently you glowed in the morning sun. I –” Sadness threatened to overwhelm her, the crack of hurt that formed in her heart smarted a little with pain. She shook her head, quickly refocusing her attention on her surroundings. She was still sat in by the little window, too taken with the view, that she did not notice when Marilla entered the room.

Marilla looked at her for a moment, red hair burning in the sun, and she felt the tell-tale ache of sympathy hit her heart. The poor girl looked as though she was born to belong in that room and looked as though she was already so deeply in love with it. It almost struck her as cruel to take it away. But her sensible and utilitarian nature took hold once more.

“Good morning Anne.” The girl eagerly stood to greet the woman.

“Good morning, Miss Cuthbert.” Her voice still croaked from crying but had that pleasant clarity to it that Matthew had noticed at Bright River.

“Make the bed, get dressed, and come down immediately. We’ll drive over to Mrs Spencer after breakfast.”

“So, I am going back to the asylum, then. I had hoped against hope that you had changed your mind.” Anne’s eagerness gave way to her disappointment. What a peculiar child, Marilla thought, to look so cheerful one moment and so forlorn the next? It simply won’t do.

“Come down at once.” She repeated before going to close the door to the bedroom.

“Mrs Cuthbert? If I were very beautiful and I – looked more like you and Matthew – would you keep me?” Anne whispered. Marilla answered with a simple ‘no’ that betrayed none of the internal conflict that stormed within her.


End file.
